Archangel and Angel
by Biotic God
Summary: Jane Shepard returns to save the day, forming a new team and reuniting with Garrus Vakarian in the process. Set during ME2's timeline, this story explores the mindset of Shepard as she tries to figure out what she feels for the Turian. Ongoing.
1. Archangel

Disclaimer: Mass Effect is property of Bioware.

Note: This story assumes you have played Mass Effect 2. Contains spoilers for Mass Effect 2. Starts off during the Archangel recruitment mission.

START OF STORY

"Garrus! Garrus! Hang in there - "

Commander Jane Shepard aborted her shouts and flattened herself on the debris-strewn carpet, as another hailstorm of bullets ripped into the room. The ground, already trembling from the reverb of powerful gunship engines hovering just outside the building, positively shook from the punishment of the massive metal slugs. The air was growing hotter from the sheer amount of heated shrapnel all around, and the pungent smell of burnt metal, flesh, and blood was overpowering, almost nauseating.

"Damn it!" She bit her lower lip, waiting patiently from behind one of several large crates which Garrus had strategically placed all over his hideout as potential gunfire cover. She didn't know what was inside the crates, but it was damn solid, absorbing the bullets with no visible signs of degradation yet. She was glad that the contents were non-volatile. To be expected, though. Garrus wasn't an idiot who would hide behind something explosive. Unlike some of the mercs whom she had killed en route to here.

She glanced once more at her fallen turian comrade, who was lying so seemingly far away at a mere ten feet. He was bleeding very badly from the initial gunship salvo which had caught everyone by surprise, but he had managed to drag himself to cover, at least. He was unconscious now, however, from the blood loss, and unresponsive to the chaos all around him.

She was no doctor, but she was pretty sure Garrus was going to die if he didn't get medical attention in the next few minutes. So she yelled for a real doctor: "Mordin!"

That chatterbox of a Salarian named Mordin Solus, about fifteen feet away from her, called back from behind his own crate with uncharacteristic brevity: "Shepard!"

She hollered above the racket, as the gunship outside continued to spam bullets: "Mordin, I am going to distract the gunship! When I do it, get over here and check on Garrus!"

Mordin was understandably hesitant. "Distract him? How? A-61Mantis Gunship comes standard with automated infrared targeting system! Shoots anything with a heat signature that moves, and I definitely possess a heat signature – wait! Sudden thought! My forearm possesses projectile launcher equipped with mini-warheads of salarian napalm! Kinetic damage minimal, but incineration damage substantial! Capable of achieving 3500 degrees Celsius! Should be enough to temporarily confuse targeting system and inflict moderate damage on gunship's plating! Might also overheat guns temporarily, further preventing gunfire for an increased period of time - "

She had to interrupt Mordin before Garrus died of blood loss and she died of exasperation: "All right, Mordin, sounds good! This krogan merc's body is still warm! I am going to throw the corpse across the room away from you! When the gunship targets the krogan, you fire your napalm and get over here! Jacob!"

Her new Cerberus teammate, Jacob Taylor, yelled from way across on the other side of the room, "Yes, Commander!"

"See if you can put up a barrier around Mordin while he makes a break for it! That ship might still be shooting even when Mordin disables his targeting system, we need to make sure Mordin survives any bullets!"

"Yes, a barrier would be greatly appreciated! Preserve the salarian! Hmmm!" Mordin nodded in agreement.

"I'll do what I can, no guarantees I can hold off more than one or two bullets, though! That gunship hits like a truck!"

"All right! Get ready!" Shepard furrowed her brow as she held out her right hand, and the hand burst into a fiery royal purplish glow of biotic power. The nearby Krogan corpse then began to glow with a similar purple field around it. She raised her hand and the body levitated slowly until it was suspended in mid air, a foot off the ground. Her head started to throb and ache from the biotic strain, but she ignored it. Heavy bastard, this was going to require some effort.

"You guys ready!"

Mordin had double checked his launcher, and he was glowing blue with Jacob's barrier. "Ready!" they shouted back.

"On the count of three! One! Two! Three!"

With a yell, Shepard hurled the Krogan corpse as far as she could across the room, away from Mordin. The gunship's bullet stream jerked away from the center of the room and followed the Krogan corpse, dutifully tracking it all the way to the ground and turning it into bloody reptilian hamburger.

Mordin popped up from behind his crate and aimed his fist at the huge gaping hole in the wall, where the gunship hovered. "Napalm away!"

A tiny rocket, little more than a dart with blue flame coming out of its tail, shot out of his wrist and out of the building – fwooooosh! The entire gunship disappeared behind a gigantic ball of flame, and Shepard's eyes bugged as she ducked back down to avoid an incoming wave of scorching heat and flame. Holy crap, the Salarian was packing that sort of firepower on his wrist?

Whatever. She yelled somewhat unnecessarily, "Go go go go!" as Mordin was already running as fast as he could across the room. Thankfully, the gunship had momentarily stopped shooting (maybe the guns had indeed overheated as Mordin speculated), and the good doctor arrived at Garrus's body with no trouble.

"Mordin, how is he!"

Mordin was hunched over Garrus, applying medi gel to an open wound. "Alive! Barely! Need evac to advanced medical facility within twenty minutes!"

"Keep him alive, Mordin! I'll take care of the ship!" Shepard had removed her heavy weapon from its back holster, and it was humming, volume increasing as it warmed up. The M-920 Cain, a brand-new prototype rail gun with high-explosive rounds. A last-resort weapon capable of only one humongous shot. Never fired it live before, but the simulations indicated that this gun was capable of taking out big things. Very big things. Like that damned gunship outside.

"First time for everything," she muttered as she checked to ensure the weapon was primed. It was. "Let's see what this big boy can do."

She pulled the trigger, and the weapon started beeping. Four second firing delay due to charge time of acceleration fields. Four. Three. Two.

She whipped around the corner of her crate on one knee, aiming down the sights. The gunship was right there. Its miniguns, freshly frosted due to their coolant system, were starting to rotate again. No longer overheated. They would be firing in moments.

One last beep, and she whispered, "Gotcha."

The Cain fired, the recoil so violent, she thought her arm had broken off at the socket. The gunship simply disappeared before her eyes within a mushroom cloud so large, it dwarfed even Mordin's napalm cloud. The shockwave sent everything not bolted down flying. Shepard, still peering around the crate, caught some of the wave and was sent rolling facefirst into a wall with a violent smack.

Moments later, Jacob was rolling her onto her back. "Commander, you okay?"

"Ugh." Severely disoriented with her nose smashed, as she struggled to get up. "Yeah, I think so. Did we get it?"

"The gunship's down, sir. Totally vaporized."

"Great." She called out over her commlink, "Joker, EDI, is that the last of them? Are we done here?"

Joker's voice was joyous. "I think so, commander! That's all the mercs wrote!"

EDI's voice stated, "No other life signs in your vicinity, Commander. The area has been cleared and secured."

Jacob sighed in relief, but Shepard was still anxious as she climbed up to her feet. "Mordin! How is he?"

"Critical, unstable. Life signs steadily decreasing. My clinic not sufficient for bullet trauma of this magnitude. Normandy med bay required."

"You hear that, Joker? We need a pickup ASAP!"

"Shuttle already on its way, commander. Tell Garrus to hang in there."

"Damn it, Garrus, don't die on us now." She dropped down to one knee to survey his injuries, and she inwardly cringed. So much raw flesh and blue blood everywhere, and his breathing, although regular, was so weak...

"Mordin, is there anything you need, anything I can do?"

"Nothing you can do. Maybe pray to your gods. Or his gods. Maybe both. Not sure which is applicable for this situation. Need shuttle pronto."

Mordin lapsed into silence as he checked on the distribution of the medi gel within Garrus' injuries. Jacob was also silent, aware that with the violence over, Commander Shepard was fading away, and Jane Shepard was now surfacing, as she reached out to gently hold one of Garrus's hands in one of hers.

Trying to fight off the fear of loss. Back from the abyss and nothingness of death, and so alone with so few she could truly trust, truly call friend. Actually, not even a few. One. One person. Joker. And now, Garrus. So happy just half an hour ago. Ecstatic, even, to find out that he was Archangel. The familiar Turian face unmasked, the same dry wit, the same earnest attitude. Those impeccable sharpshooting skills, each shot usually accompanied by a whimsical quip.

She was almost angry now. Having survived Sovereign, only to be taken down by some lousy two-bit merc gang? No. No way! Garrus wasn't going out like this.

She squeezed his hand, watching for any reaction, hoping he could feel, hoping he could hear. "You hang in there, Garrus. You hang in there." Another squeeze. "That's an order."

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Lunch Time

Disclaimer: Mass Effect is property of Bioware.

Note: This story assumes you have played Mass Effect 2. Contains spoilers for Mass Effect 2.

With arms crossed, Jane Shepard stood outside the medical bay's biggest window, watching intently and chewing on her lower lip. Chakwas and Mordin were inside, presiding over the surgical automaton dangling from the ceiling over Garrus's bed. The automaton's spidery arms were all over the Turian's chewed up body, unapologetically probing and stabbing into the bloody blue flesh over and over.

Shepard's eyes flickered back and forth, from Garrus's life signs to Garrus himself. To her inexpert eyes, he seemed to be stabilized, but still critical and not out of the woods yet. She grimaced as one of the automaton arms extracted yet another long shard of bullet shell from the flesh, and placed it inside a clear plastic disposal bucket that was already a third full. The considerable pile of twisted metal was a somber sight indeed, discouraging her even further. So much freaking shrapnel. It was a borderline miracle that Garrus was still alive.

Inside, Shepard could see Mordin saying something to Chakwas, and the middle aged lady nodded and said something in response. Shepard couldn't hear what they were saying, but their faces seemed somewhat relieved now. Their body language turned positive, and Shepard was immediately buoyed by their posture, her hopes rising as she held her breath; Mordin noticed her anticipation, and he turned to Shepard to gave a quick thumbs up before going back to work.

Garrus was going to be all right. Shepard deflated as she let out a monstrous exhale, relief surging throughout her formerly tense body. Her arms uncrossed, and she lowered her head so that one hand could reach up and massage her tight knotted brow.

"EDI?"

The Normandy's AI chimed from somewhere above her head, "Yes, Commander?"

"When Chakwas and Mordin are done with Garrus, tell them to notify me when he wakes up."

"Understood, Commander."

Shepard stopped rubbing her head and looked up. "Also, we're going to need to pick up some dextro-amino acid-based food supplies for him. Check the store listings on Omega for any Turian or Quarian foodstuffs, and send anything you find to my private terminal for my approval."

"Understood, Commander."

She thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you have any Turian cuisine recipes in your databases?"

"No, I do not."

"Then search the Extranet for the ten most popular Turian dishes, and forward their recipes to Rupert in the mess hall. I don't think Rupert has ever cooked alien food before, has he?"

"According to Rupert Gardner's file, he has no experience with cuisine based on dextro-amino acids. He does have experience with Asari and Volus cuisine, however."

"Well then, we'll have no problems when we pick up the justicar on Illium. Thanks, EDI, I'm going to crash now; if anyone wants me, tell them I'm napping."

"Have a good rest, Commander."

Shepard smiled freely for the second time today. "I will." She took one last look at the med bay, where an unconscious Garrus lay with his tongue hanging half out of his mouth, the automaton sealing the last of his abdominal wounds. Then she turned on her heels to head for the elevator.

* * *

One week later, Shepard was waiting outside the med bay again. But this time, she had a whimsical smile on her face, as she watched Garrus inside arguing with Dr. Chakwas. He was tugging and gesturing at the flimsy hospital gown he was wearing; apparently, he wanted to wear his Turian body suit, but the good doctor would have none of it, as she sternly shook her head and wagged a finger at him.

Garrus sighed in defeat, turned, and hobbled away as fast he could, while trying to keep the open back of his gown from revealing too much of his Turian heinie. The med bay's doors slid apart with a hiss, and Garrus hobbled out to greet her with a nod.

"Shepard. Sorry to make you wait."

"What was going on in there?"

"Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to get into a body suit, but Chakwas insisted that I keep wearing this thing, since I'm still technically her patient and all that jazz."

"Just because you're cleared for walking around, it doesn't mean you can jump back into your armor and start shooting bad guys again. Doc said one more week minimum until you're cleared for duty."

"Great. One more week of walking around with my rear end sticking out of this thing."

"Come on, Garrus, we're mostly humans here, this is not Turian Town. A little cheekiness from a Turian isn't going to bother anyone."

"I just don't want the humans here to think that all Turians are exhibitionists, that's all."

"Please." She leaned over in an attempt to peer around his side. "I can't even see anything from here."

"Trust me, if you were standing behind me, you would be singing a different tune."

She crinkled an eye at him. "Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Wait, so on Earth, human females don't mind if the men walk around with bare buttocks?"

She pulled out a hairpin from her bobbed brunette hair, and stepped around so she was behind him. "Fine, Garrus, you win. Stay still while I pin together your back."

He obeyed as she pinched the opposing gown flaps together. She stared at the non optimal positioning, then pulled in more cloth. Would this be enough? Her hairpin was pretty small, and wouldn't be able to hold much more, if any.

While she deliberated with herself, he quipped, "Don't look too hard, Shepard, or I'll have to start charging you."

She rolled her eyes, but chuckled anyway. "Oh please, it's not like I've never seen a guy's rear end before."

"Oh, so you've been with a Turian. Interesting."

A brief laugh and a shake of the head. "You know that's not what I meant. Another word out of you, and I'll throw you into the brig for sexual harassment."

"So says the woman staring at my naked behind."

"Believe me, I'm trying my best not to look."

"Hard to resist, yes? You may find this hard to believe, but my rear end is considered very attractive by Turian standards."

"Oh, be still, my beating heart." She jammed the pin home to secure the flaps. "There you go, Garrus. Your rear end is now secure."

Garrus looked back to check out his clad behind, and nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you, Shepard. That will be fifty credits, please."

She walked past him, beckoning him to follow without bothering to look back. "Do you want to go eat something or not?"

* * *

The mess hall was literally a hop, skip, and jump away from the med bay, and the man who presided over the kitchen was Rupert Gardner, the ship's official cook, and also the ship's unofficial handyman and janitor. Gardner had received word beforehand that he'd better whip up something Turian, and thus, when Garrus hobbled in, the cook already had something set aside just for him.

The modest older black man offered Garrus his tray of food along with a disclaimer: "Just wanted to let you know, Mister Vakarian, this is my first time cooking Turian style. I hope I did your cuisine proud, sir."

Garrus bent down to inhale the steam rising from the food tray. "This actually smells wonderful! My compliments to the chef."

"Hey, if there's one thing I know how to do well, it's following directions. And the recipe was pretty straightforward. Honor to meet you, sir, I never thought I'd get to meet another member of the group that took out the Reaper."

"Ah yes, reapers. Nice to see you don't buy into that Citadel cover up nonsense."

Rupert shrugged. "Well, I ain't a genius, but I figure that it sure as heck wasn't the Geth who built that giant ship that blew up everything in sight. Dont' get me wrong, the Geth are scary, but they've only been around three hundred years, right? Common sense tells me that they haven't been around long enough to develop technology that scary, you know?"

"Common sense, indeed. Something the Council lacks, unfortunately." Garrus nodded to the cook. "Pleasure meeting you, I look forward to eating this."

"Nice meeting you too, sir. Glad to have someone around here who appreciates my cooking."

Garrus walked off to join Shepard, who was patiently waiting at a distance with her own tray. She had been watching the whole thing with a careful eye, and as soon as they were out of earshot of Gardner, she said, "Be honest. How does your food smell?"

"Smells like ass. But I felt bad for him, I could tell he really tried."

"Give him a few days, I'm sure he'll start turning out decent stuff for you."

"No complaints here. I'll take this over a feeding tube any day."

They sat down at a booth by a wall, a distance apart from the rest of the small lunchtime crowd. The mess hall was a simple sterile room with spartan functional furnishings. The atmosphere was a quiet hubbub with human light pop music in the background. Garrus took a moment to look around, visibly relaxing in his seat. Quite a few of the crew mates were brave enough or curious enough to peek over their shoulders, somewhat in awe of the Turian and his status as a Reaper slayer.

Garrus shoved a spoonful of Gardner's slop into his mouth. "You know, me being the only alien in the room, in a hospital gown to boot... I actually feel pretty comfortable so far." The turian's bandaged mandibles chewed thoughtfully. "And this actually tastes decent."

Shepard grinned as she started on her soup. "It's actually not bad here, right? Almost makes me forget that we're on a ship sponsored by terrorists."

"That is an interesting way to look at things, isn't it?" Garrus's face turned serious. "You told me a few things while I was still bedridden, but I didn't really catch all of it due to my drug-induced haze... so, let me get this straight. You really did die? And Cerberus somehow brought you back with their Laser... Laser Us project?"

"Lazarus Project. Lazarus is a reference to a human religion. About a fellow who comes back from the dead."

"Wow." Garrus sat back to absorb that for a moment. "I've heard of some experimental medical technology doing similar things with simple life forms, but nothing like this."

"Yeah, it seems like they poured a lot of resources into bringing me back. Miranda estimated the total cost to be worth five dreadnoughts." A wry grin wrinkled her mouth. "Seems like somebody up there liked me. Somebody up there in Cerberus, that is."

"Well, for whatever it's worth, I think that was money well spent. It hit me pretty hard when I heard the reports of your death." Garrus looked down at his plate, then looked back up with sober eyes. "Glad to have you back, Shepard. The galaxy is truly a better place having you back."

A warm earnest smile from Shepard. "Thanks, Garrus."

Now a moment of silence between the two, due to the strangeness of conversing earnestly about something other than mission strategies or starship munitions or what have you. Then the Turian coughed and asked, "So, why come to Omega? I'm pretty sure you didn't come here just to check out my butt."

"To make a long story short? Human colonies are disappearing, we suspect the Collectors are behind the disappearances, and we're forming a team to put a stop to it."

"The Collectors! Intriguing. They've never been this aggressive or confrontational before." Garrus pondered out loud, "I guess they're hitting the fringe colonies?"

"Yes, they're targeting the fringe right now. They've all been non-Alliance colonies, too, so the Alliance doesn't give a damn."

Garrus's question was more of a statement: "I guess the Council has their head in the sand about this issue, too?"

A curt nod from Shepard. "Cerberus is the only group that wants to stop it, so I'm sticking with them for now." She leaned forward. "Garrus, I'm not sure what you've got going on right now, but I really hope you can stick around and help out. I mean, I know this is -"

"Don't worry, Shepard, I'll help. Anything for you."

"Oh. Okay." She blinked, then sat back in her chair with a grin. "Well then, that was easy. Welcome aboard, Garrus."

A smartass salute from the Turian, which drew a smile from the human. "Couldn't resist your sales pitch, Commander. I look forward to taking down our next Reaper."

Shepard gave him a strange look. "How did you know? I haven't gotten to the part about the Reapers yet."

"Ceberus wouldn't bring you back just for some obscure race like the Collectors. You're known as the Reaper slayer, not the Collector slayer, and Cerberus wouldn't need you unless they wanted to take down another Reaper."

"I forgot. Former detective."

"You know it."

"Well, you're right. Cerberus has evidence that the Collectors are using tech based on Reaper tech. It's circumstantial, but pretty strong evidence nonetheless."

"And the plot thickens. So, when do we go kick some Collector ass?"

"We're going to Illium next to recruit a justicar. And you're not doing anything for the next week, former detective. Doctor's orders." Shepard popped a spoonful of rice pilaf into her mouth, and said while chewing, manners be damned, "Honestly, what in the world were you thinking? Taking on the three biggest merc gangs in the Terminus system all by yourself?"

"It wasn't just me. I had a team of ten, and... well." A bitter chuckle from Garrus. "Well, now it is just me, I guess."

A wave of dark foreboding fell over Garrus as he stared out in the distance past Shepard. Most humans perceived Turians as to having inflexible inexpressive faces, but Shepard had spent enough time with Garrus to recognize his facial tics. She stayed quiet as a roil of emotions surfaced within him, bubbling to the surface. So much raging inside and around his unblinking eyes. Violence, fury, sorrow, and, most overwhelmingly... was that guilt she felt from him?

She gently asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He snapped out of it, answering in a strange voice: "No, not right now. Maybe later." His voice returned to normal now. "But thanks for asking."

She nodded, and they started to eat again. In silence. She could tell he wanted to ask her something, though, and she waited for it...

He came out with it two minutes later: "Shepard, you don't have to talk about this if you don't want to, but may I ask something private?"

"Go ahead, Garrus. You can ask me anything." And she meant it.

He was very still now. "When you were dead... did you see... you know... anything? Anyone? Or was it just... nothing?"

She knew what he was thinking about. He was thinking about his dead men on Omega, hoping that maybe they had moved on to a better place. Or that maybe they were together, watching from above and bearing witness to the vengeance he had wreaked upon the merc gangs who had killed them.

But no, she couldn't lie to him. He had also gotten good at picking up on her own facial tics. She had to answer truthfully, with a sad smile. "Nothing. It was just nothingness. I don't remember anything."

He nodded slowly. "Figured as much."

She agreed, "Mmm."

Now sitting in silence. Again.

Then he spoke up. "That's why I was on Omega, Shepard. Fighting all those mercs. I wanted to make a difference, and I couldn't do a damn thing with those ignorant blindfolded imbeciles running the Citadel. While I am still here, I want to do something that matters. Make the galaxy a better place, a safer place. I just got sick of bastards getting their way all the time and pushing everyone else around. So I decided to push back. Fuck the corruption, fuck the criminals, fuck the Reapers."

He paused to take a swig from his drink. "But the corruption at the Citadel is just too big for me to take on by myself." He formed a thin Turian smile. "And I couldn't find any Reapers to kill. So, I decided I'd start with the criminals. On Omega."

He put his drink back down. "When I first started out at C-Sec, before I met you, I was just focusing on little things. I didn't think one person could make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. But after I ran into you, and we went after Saren, then we went flying headfirst into Sovereign..."

Garrus had to laugh. "I'm crazy for taking on a bunch of mercs, huh. What about you? You're the one who picked a fight with a Reaper, remember?"

Shepard had to laugh at that, too, as she leaned back with a sigh. "Yeah, well, I never said I wasn't crazy. I just said you were crazy."

"Ok, so we're both stir crazy. I can live with that." Garrus lifted his cup. "A non-alcoholic toast to craziness."

"Amen." She raised her cup. "To craziness."

They tapped cups, and then both tipped their heads back to finish off the cups' contents. "Ahhhh." Garrus placed his cup back down on the tray. "Good times."

"Indeed." Shepard had been staring at her cup since the toast. Staring at emptiness, losing herself in the cavernous abyss beyond the rim of the plastic red container. Thinking of everything, yet nothing.

But now she looked up. "And Garrus, I know what you mean. About making your life count. I know what you mean."

A shared pause between them, then a shared little smile.

"I know you do, Shepard."

Now sitting in silence. Yet again.

"Shepard?"

"Yeah?"

Garrus was solemn once again. "Can I ask you something else?"

She tensed up. "Go ahead."

"Mordin gave me a vaccine for scale itch yesterday, and it got me wondering... does someone on this ship have scale itch already?"

Shepard's brow crinkled. "Hmm. Maybe?"

"Do you know who it is?"

Shepard was hiding a smile. "Hmm. Maybe."

"Oh come on, that's not fair. I have to know who it is."

"Why do you have to know?"

"You know! It's scale itch! I just want to know what kind of person could, you know..."

"Sorry, but you know the rules. On a starship, patient information is confidential except for the doctor and the captain."

"Wait! It's not you, is it?" The Turian's face cowed in mock horror, mandibles flaring outward.

"Garrus. Brig. Now."

She said it with such seriousness, he actually paused for a moment, wondering if he really was going to be incarcerated. But inside, she was laughing. And she was glad to have his familiar face here. Brought back into a world of hidden agendas, on a starship surrounded by strangers with unknown alleigances. So much uncertainty, so much doubt...

She was glad to have a friend with her now. No, more than just a friend. Someone who would unconditionally be on her side, always. On her side, and on no one else's.

She was so glad he was here. Even if he was kind of a smartass.

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
